


Loss Aversion

by duelstance (valoirs)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Devil Survivor AU, M/M, SASO 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 00:19:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7144493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valoirs/pseuds/duelstance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenma wrinkles his nose. "When you put it like that, it just sounds weird." </p><p>"It's true though, isn't it?" A flash of teeth, and Kuroo lets loose a grin. "I've got you with me. And thinking of it this way, we'll be fine. We'll be unstoppable, demons or no."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loss Aversion

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for SASO 2016's bonus round #1, focusing on the following prompt: "Remember when Tokyo got overtaken by demons, and then was locked down and cut off from the rest of the world by the government?" The original thread on Dreamwidth can be found [here](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/13489.html?thread=3703985#cmt3703985).
> 
> There shouldn't be much explicit violence, but just to be safe, I've marked the fic with the appropriate archive warning. As this is my first piece for this fandom, I apologize in advance if the characterization is not the best, if there are typos, and if anything is unrealistically handled; this is a largely experimental piece (also written while sleep deprived and half-asleep). Unfortunately, this missed the character limit on Dreamwidth by several hundred characters, so I'll have to put this here for now. Please enjoy, and thank you for reading!

 

The sharp tang of ozone hangs heavy in the air, and if there's anything Kuroo never thought to be prepared for, it's this. Streets streaked red with the copper scent of blood, screams echoing off the metal husks of emptied skyscrapers, demons prowling the streets. He's never thought he'd have to be prepared for the unlikely probability of a demonic snowman trying to freeze him alive and hack up the pieces for pleasure, either, but then again, here they are. 

Or here it _was_ , at least. 

He has exactly two seconds to stare it down before it's stricken by a ball of flame from behind and promptly incinerated. Kuroo lets out a low whistle despite himself at the one-hit kill. He's going to have to get used to this, frankly, because the supernatural has become day-to-day reality. Class feels like a distant memory—volleyball practice even more so. It's only been several days since Tokyo went under lockdown, the world he knew gone straight to hell and all inhabitants trapped and left to fend for themselves. Already Kuroo feels like he's done more running than he's done in all the other years of his life combined.  

Kenma steps over the melting ooze of the once-snowman's corpse, his COMP clutched in his hands. It's shady enough that the device originally came in a package to Kenma's house with no actual label for a proper recipient, only an address, but it's the main thing keeping them alive in the chaos, so Kuroo can't fault it for that. 

"Are you okay?" Kenma's voice drifts over to him, soft but steady amidst the crackle of fire at their feet. 

Kuroo's eyes slide up from the mess, meeting Kenma's sharp, cat-like gaze. There's an intensity to Kenma's scrutiny, an extra edge that hadn't taken shape until recently. Kuroo is used to a certain status quo with his best friend, knowing each other's personal idiosyncrasies like the backs of their own hands, and they've changed over the course of years, of course. There was a time Kenma's reluctance to even touch a volleyball had rolled off him in waves, a slow gradient from outright averseness to learned resignation to even the occasional desire to play to win. 

But that had taken years. What he's witnessed in only a matter of days is something else entirely. Kenma is even more careful now, watching so intently Kuroo is sure his friend misses absolutely nothing. But then there's also the rising fact that Kenma is all the quicker to act now—all the swifter to strike when a threat arises—and there is a certain precision to his actions that bespeaks an underlying confidence. It's unlike the uncertainty Kuroo is accustomed to. Kenma's gestures speak for themselves when people know what to look for, but for the first time in years, Kuroo isn't sure what to make of this new development. 

He's not afraid. Kenma's never given him reason to be afraid—except for his friend's own safety and wellbeing. But as much as he calls Kenma the brain, Kuroo isn't one to shy away from doing a bit of thinking himself. 

"Kuroo?" 

He blinks back against Kenma's steady stare, managing a small nod. "Yeah, I'm fine. Zoned out a bit." He glances back again at where the demon had been only moments before and manages a half-grin despite himself. "You really got that demon snowman good. When're you gonna stop hogging the COMP and let me handle it?" 

"Jack Frost," Kenma says by way of explanation, holding up the device, where the indicated creature's stats flash on the screen, and he takes a step closer, then another, and another, until he's close enough to touch. He takes up a position beside Kuroo, facing the same direction. Their shoulders brush. "And I'm not." 

"Are too." 

"Am not." 

Kuroo lets a few seconds pass, then leans sideways against Kenma, forcing the shorter boy to take a step to accommodate the extra weight. "Are too." He can't see it, not at this angle, but from the way the tension in Kenma's body loosens, muscles relaxing, Kuroo can guess that maybe there's a small smile playing at Kenma's lips. 

"…Am not." 

A beat, and then their shoulders brush again, collective body heat coalescing against the chill of the morning air, raising old memories of lazy summer afternoons spent curled together, entire days passing in languid repose. For all Kuroo knows now, they might not have that kind of luxury for a long time. His pulse beats silently under the planes of his skin, webbed in networks of tissue in the curve of his wrist, steady in spite of the demon attack from mere moments prior. He's never disliked quiet moments like this. Just as Kenma can catch the minutiae of Kuroo's actions, Kuroo can spot the nuances of Kenma's body language, from the way the boy half-rests his head against Kuroo's shoulder to the way his fingers twitch against the COMP. 

All the more noticeable, then, that Kenma is bothering to initiate contact so easily like this. 

Kuroo glances down as fingers tighten around the sleeve of his jacket. Kenma isn't exactly looking at him, but several seconds of staring remedy that—soon enough, feeling the weight of Kuroo's gaze on him, Kenma glances back and their eyes meet. There's a quiet resignation threaded deep in the depths of Kenma's eyes, a visceral desperation that he's refusing to put into words. 

Even including all the times Kuroo's borne witness  to Kenma panicking in public when they were little, dissolving into a mess of thinly veiled nerves, he's never seen that look on his best friend. His heart clenches. 

"I found this earlier." Kenma presses something cool and distinctly metal into the loose curl of Kuroo's fingers. It gleams in the light. Kuroo stares at the second COMP like he's never seen one before. 

" _Kenmaaaa_ ," he groans, "why didn't you give me this earlier? I could've been _useful_." 

"Mm. There wasn't a good time to mention it until now." 

Before Kuroo can make a point of whining and making a nuisance of himself, Kenma gently grasps his wrist and raises it slightly so the COMP is in a better position to be viewed. Humoring his friend, Kuroo holds the position, fingers relaxed around the metallic frame of the COMP, watching silently as his friend guides the lid open and boots it up properly. The screen lights up, flickering unsteadily, then settles into the sharp interface of a red menu, icons framed neatly in a three-by-three grid. 

"I found it on someone," Kenma murmurs, voice soft, contemplative. "I didn't think they would have much use for it anymore, so it's better in your hands. A lot of features are locked on this one, but you should at least be able to configure equipped skills. This one has a lot of physical skills, so this might work better for you." 

"Yeah, thanks." Kuroo manages a small smile and reaches out with his free hand, fingers carding gently through Kenma's hair. Maybe ordinarily he would have ruffled it with reckless abandon until Kenma started complaining, but now, there's a deliberateness to the action, a lightness to the touch. A need to feel, to confirm his best friend is still with him, somehow. He hears the words Kenma isn't saying: _the original owner probably died, I found it on his body._  Part of him knows it's in poor taste to take from the dead, but both of them are aware now just how quickly society can collapse in a matter of days, how quickly a single demon can end a life if they aren't careful. 

Eyes sliding closed, Kenma presses back against the pads of Kuroo's fingers, leaning into the touch. "Do you think everyone is safe? Everyone from club, Shouyou, others..." 

"Honestly? I really don't know." Kuroo lets out a breath, drawing back from the comfort of Kenma's warmth, pocketing the second COMP gingerly. "But they're strong. I might have a monopoly on our brains right now, but they'll survive. They have good instincts." 

Kenma wrinkles his nose. "When you put it like that, it just sounds weird." 

"It's true though, isn't it?" A flash of teeth, and Kuroo lets loose a grin. "I've got you with me. And thinking of it this way, we'll be fine. We'll be unstoppable, demons or no." This time, when he reaches out to ruffle Kenma's hair, he follows through with vigor, ignoring the low disgruntled noise that emerges from his friend's throat. 

"Kuroo—" 

Kenma manages that much, and that's when Kuroo has precisely two seconds to react before Kenma reaches out and promptly shoves him aside as the world explodes in a disorienting haze of flame. Kuroo catches sight of the tail end of a spout of fire billowing in the other boy's direction as he stumbles back, skidding so badly his worn sneakers scrape against the asphalt, and then it's his turn to scream. 

" _Kenma!"_ The name just about rips itself past his lips, barely recognizable, lost in tones of panic and desperation. Mere seconds ago he'd been waxing poetic about being invincible. What good is it if he can't even save his best friend? The thought burns straight into the marrow of his bones, dread turned into liquid hot fear that tears through him like a current of electricity. He clenches the COMP in his hands, flinging himself through the fire in an outright lunge that has him slamming so hard into green shape that it knocks the air out of his lungs. 

 _A dragon_ , Kuroo realizes belatedly. _We're up against a damn dragon._  It certainly looks the part at least, yellow-bellied and covered in green scales with fin-like protrusions at the sides of its head. Slow-moving as well, if the way it's dragging itself is any indication, and to his surprise, his body slam actually knocked it back a few steps. 

"Kuroo, cover me!" 

Instinct has him throwing himself to the side this time, in the direction of Kenma's voice, powered both by adrenaline and the vicious desire to be sure his friend is safe. Kenma's words, however, are just about all the warning he gets before the air ignites with a flood of electricity, a brutal bolt of lightning tearing through space and time to reach its target. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as the lightning strikes true, shredding through tendons and ligaments in the demon's side. He cringes at the scream that escapes its maw. He's going to be hearing that for _days_. 

"Don't even pull crap like that anymore!" The hiss escapes his mouth as he finally gets a read on Kenma's position, spotting the blond's kneeling form amidst roaring flames. By the time he gets close enough, he can make out the angry burns all across Kenma's leg and the nasty gash at his side, blood welling up from the open wound. "Shit, this isn't good—" 

There isn't even time to so much as _think_  anymore, because the sound of claws scraping against cement burns itself into his eardrums and a glance over his shoulder shows him they have one pissed-off demon on their tail. Kuroo takes one glance at Kenma—wounded, flinching Kenma who _shoved him out of the way of that demon's claws_ , and then he makes a split-second decision. 

He drops the COMP, crouches just enough to gather Kenma into his arms, and makes a break for it. 

For once, luck is on their side—as vicious as the demon looks, its agility stat must be something truly lamentable, because even with Kenma's weight keeping him from sprinting at full speed, he outruns it easily enough. Its form disappears into the distance as he rushes through the abandoned street. 

"That COMP might have been useful against that Pendragon," Kenma comments quietly, but there's no criticism in the words, only mild relief. 

"Look," Kuroo replies, his voice a little sharper than absolutely necessary, "if it was between you and a goddamn _COMP_ , you know what I'm going to pick." 

"Mm... Well, I'm glad." Kenma's voice is muffled as he buries his face against Kuroo's shoulder, his breaths shallow and pained. 

They duck into a deserted alleyway, and Kuroo crouches to help prop Kenma against the wall in a sitting position, eyes tired as he surveys the wounds. "You'll be all right," he says, more for himself than Kenma's sake at this point, furiously tearing at the bottom of the shirt he's wearing under his jacket for a makeshift bandage. With deft fingers, he secures the fabric in place around Kenma's lower torso to stem the bleeding. "Can you cast a Dia?" 

Kenma shakes his head. "Spent too much MP. We'll need to wait for it to recharge. Probably." 

"Well, we'll have to lay low for a while then." 

Frustration would be an understatement. It's the first time he's felt so helpless, the first time his own best friend has gotten injured to this extent, and there's still so little he can do. Even their own demons won't be any help; nothing in Kenma's COMP knows healing spells, which is just their luck. He settles into the spot next to Kenma, silent, lips pursed. 

"Kuroo." 

He doesn't look up. 

"Please stop blaming yourself." 

There's a ragged, pained breath as Kenma shifts, and abruptly, a weight settles across Kuroo's lap. In that split second Kuroo can feel his pulse start thundering traitorously, and he lifts his head just enough to blink in surprise as Kenma leans back against him, seamlessly tucking his head under Kuroo's chin.  

He feels like a cat underwater. "Yeah. 'Course. I will." 

Kenma hums, his voice soft and toneless, and doesn't bother insisting any further. It's never been his personality to do so, but somehow, there's an extra edge to that unspoken trust this time. Kuroo sits perfectly still, focused entirely on not jostling Kenma needlessly, the world gone silent around them. "It's not like you to do something like that," Kuroo says, and he thinks about all the video games he's seen Kenma playing, how maybe this whole scenario could just be another offshoot of a game to him. 

"Hm. Maybe." 

Kuroo waits a few moments, then another, already sensing another thought on the tip of Kenma's tongue. 

"But I thought about it, Kuroo. How things have changed now, and how we have, too." A beat, then Kenma turns slightly, exhaling a tired sigh, before resettling with his head against Kuroo's chest, ear pressed over the spot where Kuroo's heartbeat lies. "I always thought you'd be with me, that things wouldn't change, but they have. Maybe you won't be here with me, if things play out badly. But I don't want that." 

Kuroo's almost certain Kenma can hear his thundering heartbeat now. 

"I don't want to lose you." 

Feeling even more like a drowning cat, Kuroo buries his face in Kenma's hair and inhales. If he lets his lips press against the crown of his best friend's head for a little longer than necessary, no one has to know. 

No one but Kenma, at least, because when Kuroo finally lifts his head again, Kenma lifts his as well, stretching up slightly to press his lips feather-light against the underside of Kuroo's chin, so faint it could pass as accidental if it weren't such an inherently deliberate move. 

"I don't want to lose you either," Kuroo mumbles, thinking back on the extra edge to Kenma's actions, how quick he is to retaliate now, to end the threat before it has a chance to grow, dangerously savvy in even the possibilities when it comes to how things could play out, a rippling cause and effect and all the consequences in between. How Kenma threw himself so easily in the line of literal fire in a move driven by fear of loss. How things have changed, and Kenma, who used to cower behind him regularly when they were little, who used to reject his invitations to play, was ready to save Kuroo's life at the expense of his own. 

"Let's survive," Kenma says softly, and when he turns himself on Kuroo's lap to face him, eyes fixed grimly on a point above Kuroo's head, seeing something only he can see, there's fire in his eyes more unwavering than the ones that very nearly killed them both. 

"Let's survive," Kuroo agrees. 


End file.
